Hostage | Brooklyn Nine-Nine

Twenty-Five

Fawn

"Thank you for the lift," I say to Amy as she pulls up outside my apartment complex, a building I had honestly completely forgotten about whilst I was... away from everyone. 

I was in the hospital for about a month and a half; it took a long time to get used to regularly eating and drinking again, I had to undergo daily physical therapy to help me get used to moving on my own - walking, jogging, running - and I had to recover from all the injuries that I sustained from... everything that happened. The squad made a visitation schedule so that they could regularly see me without disrupting their work schedules. 

Well, when I say that the squad made the schedule, I obviously mean that Amy put it together. 

Charles always brought along some of my favourite foods, despite the fact that I puked most of it up in the first week or two and my insistence that he didn't he didn't need to, which always made me feel a little happier. Rosa offered to continue taking care of my motorbike until I was fit to ride again, as she confessed she began looking after it after a few weeks had passed when I was kidnapped and hadn't made an appearance anywhere. Amy would come and to help me stop thinking about Jake in his coma, she would tell me stories about him on the force and outside of work. They were all entertaining to hear and whilst there was always a slightly sad undertone, the stories helped to keep me positive.

"Everyone else should be here fairly soon," I comment as I lead Amy up to my apartment, the keys clinking together in my pocket. In 'celebration' of my safe return and discharge from hospital, Amy suggested that I throw a small house party with the squad and Kevin, whom I have yet to see in person again due to his work load at his university. 

So I did. Everyone is coming over to 'celebrate'.

I pull my keys out of my pocket and without any struggle, slide the right one into my door lock and unlock it. I push the door open and feel surprisingly shocked at the fact that everything is tidy, clean and in the exact same place I left it. "It looks exactly the same," I whisper in a slightly shocked tone, as I place the keys on the side table near the door and remove my coat. 

Amy then explains that Jake insisted that they all pitch in every so often to clean, as it would have begun gathering dust everywhere. "God, when that boy wakes up, I'll have to slap that sappiness out of him," I joke slightly, a small chuckle leaving Amy's lips as she starts to put out the snacks she bought from the store. As she starts to fill up bowls and plates with food, I tell her that I'm going to go change into something nicer. She nods in response and I make my way into my bedroom, wondering what I'll have in my wardrobe that will still fit me somewhat.

Going straight to my wardrobe, I flick through some outfits before pulling out something simple: a black dress that comes down to just above my knees, paired with a small black heel. Content with my outfit, I place it on my bed and start to remove the clothes that Amy had brought for me to wear out of the hospital, which was just a hoodie, leggings and a pair of boots.

Once I've removed the clothes, my eyes quickly glance over at the mirror on the wall and almost immediately snap away after what I see. Only just being released from the hospital after being plugged into several machines to monitor my vitals and transport food into my body, I've become used to being in a hospital gown and wrapped tightly underneath hospital sheets; meaning that I haven't been able to really realise just how much my body has been affected.

Cautiously, I look back at the mirror and take a long, hard look at my body. Everything looks gauntly thin. My arms, my legs, my stomach and even my face... everything looks just... ghastly thin. Not to mention everything dented into my skin. As I slowly move closer to the mirror, the injuries start to become clearer. Scars everywhere, remnants of bruises, cuts and other wounds. When I turn around to the side slightly, I can see where I was shot before Jake found me in that building, and I can also see the injuries on my back from my time in the armed forces. My fingers slowly move over all the scars and wounds, some deeper and more prominent than others, until I reach one across my neck.

During the first few weeks of my capture I was being threatened to disclose private information about the squad, the precinct and the entire NYPD, which, of course, I refused to hand over to them. The only specific part I can remember about the aftermath of that was someone continually pressing a knife against my throat, everything else apart from that is hazy and blurry. My fingernails delicately trace the long scar, feeling every bump there is. 

"Fawn?" Amy's voice calls out, making me jump slightly and my hand drops away from my throat, "do you want me to put all of the snacks out now, or save some for later?" After I give her an answer, I turn my back to the mirror and start to slip myself into my dress, trying my best to ignore my thin and injured frame. 

Still feeling slightly uncomfortable with both my arms and legs on show, I reach into my wardrobe and pull out a black blazer, which I slide my arms into and then button up slightly. I put a little makeup on, in the effort to make myself look slightly healthier, and then leave the room to see Amy has managed to change into her outfit too: a blue cocktail dress with a small black cardigan, finished with a pair of stilettos.

"Hey, I've finished setting everything... Fawn, are you okay?" She asks, stopping mid-sentence when we make eye contact. I answer her honestly: no. I'm not okay and I don't know exactly when I will be.

"I just wish Jake was here," I whisper, smiling sadly at her. Her facial expressions melt into the same as mine, as she responds with a simple, "I know."